


No Tricks

by semele



Category: Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-23
Updated: 2013-04-23
Packaged: 2017-12-09 07:15:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/771497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/semele/pseuds/semele
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Damon isn't sure why he gives Elena the addresses.</p><p>(Goes AU in 4x17)</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Tricks

**Author's Note:**

> Written for love-bingo, square _In your eyes_.

Damon isn't sure why he gives Elena the addresses.

When he feels her hand on his ass, he reaches to slap it away, maybe break her wrist just for good measure, but when he touches her fingers, he feels overwhelmingly weary, weary of lies, of games and schemes. Watch him let his emotions get in a way.

“Here,” he says, holding the piece of paper out to her.

Elena eyes him suspiciously.

“Just like that, you give up? Where's the catch?”

“No catch.”

He opens his arms as if he was dropping all the masks, letting her see him calm and honest. It's hard not to flinch when she tilts her head like a curious cat, but he keeps his cool, stands still as she watches him, and then takes the paper out of his hands.

(This nice act. Is any of it real?)

“Are you going to help me find Katherine?”

“If you want me to.”

“And no tricks?”

Damon takes a deep breath and looks her right in the eye.

“No tricks,” he says solemnly.

***

The world is a lot easier this way.

The door closes behind Elena, and everything falls silent, Damon's phone switched off in his jacket pocket and the buzz in his head almost completely quiet. The motel they ended up in looks dark and shabby, but it doesn't really matter, or maybe it does, he isn't sure.

He doesn't need to be sure anymore.

(He will apologize with his head between her legs, and everything will be right again.)

Elena pulls him into a kiss, and Damon closes his eyes as he feels her body pressed to his. He's very conscious of her hands resting on his back, of arms wrapped around his waist and a small smile that shows between kisses. She's so close it makes his head spin, and for the first time in ages he lets it spin. Elena is close, relaxed in his hands, and he doesn't want anything, anything at all, apart from pulling her even closer.

“What do you feel?” she asks, tilting her head a bit, genuinely curious.

“It's complicated.”

She nods as if she understood, and reaches to stroke his cheek, soft and warm, and strangely, strangely safe. 

“I like you better like this,” she says after a moment of silence. “No tricks.”

“I'm tired,” he answers, making an honest face.

“Do you want to sleep?”

“No,” he says with a smile. “No, I don't want to sleep.”

He moves his hands to slide her jacket off her shoulders and kisses her earnestly, just like he did on the rooftop. Damon doesn't have different kisses for different people, he kisses everyone like he means it, mouth eager and hands shaking, too much of a fake to remember how he did it when he was still real. Elena will never trust him now that she saw just how much of a fake he is, but maybe it's for the best.

It's not very reliable, when the only difference between real and not real is in his own head.

She starts pulling at his belt buckle, but he catches her hands.

“Don't,” he asks softly. Don't, please. Let me.”

“Let you what?” she asks, but the she stops, moves her hands back to his face instead. “What do you want?”

It's enough to take a single step for Elena's legs to hit the bed, and Damon doesn't even wait for her to sit, just drops to his knees and starts fumbling with her zipper.

“Please, let me do this,” he says when he feels her hand on the back of his neck.

She doesn't ask if this is a trick, so Damon doesn't have a chance to tell her it's not.

(Fool me once: shame on you.)

He slides her pants down her legs and lets his kisses follow. He needs to tell her she's precious, precious and beloved, but words won't cut it (not that hands will), so he tries to think of another way. He presses a wet kiss to the hollow of her hip, and Elena's breath catches in an all wrong way. Before he can move to the top of her thigh, he finds himself on his back.

The show is over.

“What do you feel?” asks Elena from above, her eyes spooky in the dark.

“I love you,” he says without thinking, out of love and out of habit, but Elena's laughter twists in his brain like a screw, raw like he used to be raw and honest like he used to be honest. Funny, how things change.

“And you will never leave me again?” she asks, and there's something in her her voice that makes him wish she'd hit him.

So he hits her first.

He pushes her off him and up against the wall, full body pressed against her to keep her in place. She's still laughing, she has no right to laugh at him (no right to look at him, to see him clear behind the masks, no right to make him strip until there's nothing left).

He tries to shove his hand between her bare legs, but she doesn't let him, kisses him roughly and pulls at his belt buckle. His button goes flying across the room, and Elena slides onto him with all the hurt she can muster, you played me, I played you, now we pay.

Damon forgets that she's supposed to not feel, and reads all sorts of emotions in her eyes, rage, guilt, pain and loss, matching his so perfectly it takes his breath away. It was stupid of him to think he'd be safe, when he's here with his other self, Elena is him and he is Elena, she doesn't want to be fixed.

“What do you feel?” she asks like a broken record, but he's beyond words, just slams hard into her, and that seems to please her, finally. She arches her body and takes his anger for truth, so he holds on to that, closes his eyes and makes himself rough around the edges.

(Elena slides her hand between them and finishes herself off when he isn't looking.)

He avoids her gaze when they're done, pretending it's out of shame, but Elena cups his face and forces him to look down. There are tears on her cheeks, and he focuses on that, tries to find guilt for deceiving her and for bruising her. His own bruises are healing on his shoulders, and soon there will be no marks at all, time to let go, but Elena is patient, and it occurs to him she didn't buy any of that, remorse, or love, or rage.

(Or maybe he didn't buy them, but then he forgot.)

Her eyes are hollow when he finally looks into them, and he doesn't know what to think about it, doesn't know if she's right or wrong, if he loves her or hates her, if he should break her bones or kiss her hand. So he doesn't do anything at all, apart from staring, Elena is him and he is Elena, he was trying so hard to make it right that he turned her into a mirror.

“I wanted it to be real,” they say together like one.


End file.
